“We will see, North, we will see,” Marcus said, and raised his champagne for another toast. “To his lordship’s seclusion,” he said. “May it end in the not-too-distant future.”
“To his lordship’s imminent demise as a black-hearted, quite handsome bachelor,” Maggie said. “He’s not a man to be wasted on dogs or moors.”
“Hear, hear,” the Duchess said.
“Your mother was very concerned, my lord. Begging your pardon, Duchess, but I must move on now to other matters. Thus, I read everything I could find on this Botany Bay, and found that we were right. It’s a thoroughly nasty place, primitive as that area around the Ganges River. No one manages to escape this Botany Bay. I told this to your mother, my lord. She then stopped fretting about Mr. Trevor. I told her it was at the end of the earth and filled with venomous serpents. She was quite relieved. I don’t believe she’ll speak of it again, my lord.”
“Well,” Maggie said, tapping her fork against her champagne glass, “I wouldn’t be content to send him there, all whole-hided, no indeed. Poor Duchess—she just smacks him on his head. Men don’t get hurt when smacked on their heads. No, she should have taken that pitchfork and done him in then and there. I would have known what to do.”
“Botany Bay isn’t an easy place,” Badger said. “I agree with Mr. Spears. Master Trevor won’t be taking any trips away from there.”
“Still, you were all too kind, too easy on that devil. What matter if he was kin? He lost all his rights when he was so very wicked. Trying to kill the Duchess, trying to do away with both of you and he would have, that one. He wouldn’t have stopped and felt all kinds of guilt, no, he would have done away with both of you.”
“That is quite enough, my dear,” Sampson said kindly but with a certain sort of firmness that made the Duchess stare at him. “Surely the topic has been abused sufficiently. Mr. Trevor won’t escape that place. Everyone is safe. You have more than enough to think about now without the inclusion of that man who will shortly be gone from England.”
The Duchess grinned at the look of utter astonishment on Maggie’s face. “Is that you, Mr. Sampson? You said that to me?”
“Yes, indeed, dearest.”
“Well, well, the man is capable of surprising me. Me! I quite like that, Mr. Sampson, perhaps. Once in a while. Mayhap twice a week.”
“Hear, hear,”
the Duchess called out, looking toward her husband as she spoke. She was fingering the beautiful pearls that were looped about her neck, and she was smiling, a very soft smile.
“Twice a week?” Marcus said. “No, surely more than twice a week.”
“His lordship isn’t adhering to a gentleman’s code if you asked me,” Maggie said. “Not like Mr. Samp—, er, my dearest Glenroyale here.”
“Surprises are quite nice, aren’t they?” the Duchess said, still looking at her husband, still fingering those pearls.